1. The cheeks have become radiant from the crescents and the suns,
And from the branches and twigs are necklaces.

2. On the mantles of every gentle gazelle,
Are the likes of what spring has woven as carpets.

3. The branches of blossoming trees do not sway with the breeze,
And my breath passes through them, so they sway.

4. Eyes that shine from the eyelids as if they are
The whites of polished swords and the eyelids, scabbards.

5. Their blue eyes are shimmering blue,
On the day of struggle, and their blackness is pitch black.

6. If it were not for the blood of lovers they shed,
The rose would not have reddened in their cheeks.

7. I did not know before her lips and pores,
That anemones were their stuffing.

8. And sweat of shyness dripped from her cheeks,
So she wore the pearls from it as a necklace.

9. The knots of her mantle loosened, as if
Those mantles have no stiffening in them.

10. Alluring eyes that injure our hearts with their glances,
For it is the bleeding, and their look, the blades.

11. If the heights are condemned in the times,
Then the heights are praiseworthy in themselves.